Monday, March 9, 2020


On Thursday, March 5, it was announced that there were two "community-based" cases of Covid-19 in San Francisco, so I now officially reside in CoronaVirusLand. 

I'm assuming that "community-based" means the authorities have absolutely no idea how the virus was transmitted.

Even though I am totally healthy at this moment, I am a member of the so-called Vulnerable Population.  In fact, I am thrice vulnerable:
(1)  I am over 60 aka OLD. 
(2) I have asthma -- my respiratory system is my weakest point.
(3) The cortisone inhaler I take for my asthma weakens my immune system.

For some reason, it really bothers me that I'm not just OLD, I'm 13 years past the border between middle-aged and old.  I'M SEVENTY-THREE!  I mean, I'm REALLY old.  Couldn't 70 be the new 60?  Then I wouldn't be REALLY old. 

Still, better to be 73 than not to be.

I have decided to isolate myself, to practice "social distancing."  I hope you will never hear this phrase.  But if you do, it means you now live in CoronaVirusLand too.  I have cancelled all my social engagements and cultural outings.  When I am in the presence of Carolyn, who lives upstairs, I stay at least three feet away.  I am considering NOT being in the presence of Carolyn.  I am washing my hands frequently and TRYING NOT TO TOUCH MY FACE.  I have an astonishingly itchy face, not to mention watery eyes.  Perhaps that comes with the REALLY old territory.

I am isolating myself because:
(1) I really don't want to die.
(2) It's the best thing I can do for the community.
(3) It's easy for me to do:
      A.  I don't have a job to go to -- I work from home anyhow.
      B.  Nobody needs me to take care of them.
      C.  I have a very nice home to be stuck in.
      D.  I even have a garden!

Actually, I have a spectacular garden.

On Saturday, my new friend dropped by.  At that point, I was just formulating my intention to isolate.  My new friend is also my dog-walker, and a very fine dog-walker she is.  Loulou, my extremely opinionated Standard Poodle, believes my new friend deserves the Nobel Prize for Dog-Walking.  My new friend's home is her car.  She takes a shower once a week chez moi.  She had a cold, so she didn't want to take a shower because it was cold out and she had a cold and her hair would be wet.  She had a cold.  It was cold.  She doesn't have a proper home. 

She had a cold it was cold she had a cold it was cold she had a cold it was cold. 

I had such a desire to ask her to spend the night at my place.  I struggled.  But I was scared for myself, and I didn't.  What would I have done if she had asked me?  I don't know.  Probably said "No."  I felt like all of those people who, faced with risking their lives to hide a Jew, said "No." 

Later, I re-read the instructions for Vulnerables, and it very clearly said I should avoid sick people.  So I comfort myself that I did the "right" thing. 

I'm so sorry, my new friend, that I didn't ask you to stay.  I'm so sorry that your car is your home.  I'm so sorry I chose not to share my home with you.  I'm so sorry the world is such a mess

I'm so sorry I'm so sorry

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